Patrician
by Asher
Summary: [Oneshot] Dorothy once proclaimed, 'I said you were unfit for a King. I never said you were unfit for me. He doesn't even really want you, Lucrezia.' [Dx9]


**PATRICIAN**

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**And I Could Cease**

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**A/N:** Shoujo-ai. Wee bit of angst. D+9/9+D. Noin POV. For Killraven.

**BGM: **_Terrible Vision, _The Instigator, Rhett Miller

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_I had a dream that you were gone it was a heart condition  
Like I'd never known what my name was  
You couldn't see me  
You've got terrible vision if you don't see  
That I'm in love with you and how that means everything  
If I had known that you could leave  
I would have stolen myself out  
As it is I'm so in love there is no god  
It was a dream that's all it was you've got to wake me up now  
you've got to wake me up now  
_

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_"You're nothing more but a plebian. Your name speaks volumes, Lucrezia. Common. Uninterestingly so. And yet you've managed to become the consort of a patrician of such high ranking that you might even become a queen someday." The strong blue gaze dropped down to the sword at my side, roaming steadily up my body to take in the drab grey uniform I was wearing._

_"But I think I can surmise what it is that makes you distinctive. Zechs has taste in women. Your cold features blended in with his warmth would make beautiful heirs to the Sank Kingdom throne." She sidled towards me, the folds of her skirt brushing against my legs. She circled me slowly, failing her attempt at a harmless appearance as she kept her hands tucked at the small of her back._

_Her hair moved with her, smelling of orchids and heady belladonna as she whispered the next. "But you aren't meant to stand behind him. You'd make an interesting concubine, a sexual consort. But you aren't a queen. You aren't blue of blood." She stopped, standing directly in front of me, her superior height forced me to tilt my head up to meet her unwavering stare. "Can I kiss you?"_

_"Can I kiss those lips? Can I touch this skin, put my unscathed hands on the body that stood between my king and death?" _

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You made me feel shuddering discomfort. Through that heated gaze, through eyes unfailingly blunt and critical. Your cryptic sentences composed of unfaltering ideals, the repetitions of hero-worshiped passed from Treize Khushrenada onto Zechs Merquise. Near fanaticism intensified the allure of a contralto voice polished with intelligence and poignancy. You dripped with elegance draped in a sheen of violence. Of irrational anger and wild arrogance.

Always that arrogance. The dainty sneer given with a toast, an upraised glass.

You always wore gloves to dinners.

Lace, silk, satin. Your hands hidden beneath cloth, unwilling to touch anyone else directly

But you took them off for me.

_-_

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_"Can I, Noin?" She unclasped her hands, bringing up one small hand and removed dainty lace patterned glove. Her hand was pale, white as faded porcelain. The other hand looked nearly sickly, the sun-less skin peeking through the blackness of the glove._

_What to answer?_

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_- _

It's difficult to explain.

She was the same age, a Prince for a fiancé tucked away in the Palace waiting for her to set a day or to at least allow his key to be of use on her bedroom door.

And a suitor. Nearly penniless, without pedigree, without even a name of his own.

But he was...interesting. Appealing, dangerous. He matched her wit, her need to have passion for the sake of it. He could understand her obsession with war, with death. With retaliation and...

Well, she had the right to have him. To accept into her a lover.

As I had the right to my rigidity, to keeping myself.

But it was elegance.

She craved it, was nearly famished from wanting it. That unhealthy love for Treize, her infatuation with Zechs, with is station, his face, his name.

Her taste ran to gorgeous and unattainable.

And as a Lieutenant, as a woman, as someone desiring the complete attention of love, I was an easy mark for her.

_-_

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_"Your hesitation tells me nothing, Noin. Should I take your silence, the flutter of those thick lashes, the violet threads in your blue eyes...should I see the grip on have on your sword and take it as a 'yes'?" She took a last step forward, three fingers tracing the line of my jaw from ear to chin, hand trailing down to my throat and pausing with almost feather lightness over my heart. "Are you going to tell me to stop?"_

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You never smiled sincerely towards me after that.

You broke it off with Trowa. You married that Prince. You kept your blue blood pure. You sent a derisive message among white roses coldly congratulating the my accumulation of a Duchy.  
_'Duchess Noin'_, you call me when you bow. You smirk. The arrogant curve of supple lips, the rise of an eyebrow.

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_"Yes." And I stepped away from her, my breath erratic, my speech unsteady. "And no. You may not kiss me."  
She smiled then, as if she had been expecting it. "You're loyal, Noin. But you lack conviction. You can honestly say that you find my kiss repellent?"_

_"No." Her eyebrows shot up; she looked surprised. "But I don't want your hands on me again, Lady Dorothy."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I am nothing but a plebian. A patrician of your station, a member of such refined gentry should not lower herself to the likes of me. Is that not what you've been saying about Zechs and myself?"  
Her smile dropped. "I said you were unfit for a King. I never said you were unfit for me. He doesn't even really want you, Lucrezia."_

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Yes, Dorothy. But I could understand him. I could feel secure.

I could cease the search for elegance.

And what of you?

How could I ever become what you wanted?

How could I ever measure up to Treize?

You wanted too much.

You wanted to find Gentry where there was only me.

Just Noin. Just me.

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Some people have asked me about why I wrote a rare shojo-ai pairing instead of continuing insert fic here or writing more of insert pairing here

The answer? Because I can.

And because I happen to like this pairing. Let me know what you think!


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